


In Light of Rule Five

by Kuro_Guardian



Series: Shadier than a grove of Oak Trees [2]
Category: Black Panther (2018), Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gaslighting, Gen, Kidnapping, Lack of ethics, Mind Manipulation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Rebuttal of Fandumb, mindscape, steve gets punched in the face
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 15:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14168235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuro_Guardian/pseuds/Kuro_Guardian
Summary: "Sometimes you're wrong, but if it feels like you're being played... you probably are. "Something is wrong and Tony needs to figure out what it is before it's too late.





	1. First things first, hide the women and children

** In Light of Rule Five **

 The hall stretches into infinity. Door after door after door – each an exact copy of the one before it. The pragmatic side of him knows there is no way except forward. The cowardly part of him, the part that wants to hide behind Ana’s skirts, that part will go forward just because it can’t stomach what lies behind. “I’m not dead.”

 

His tone is firm and nonchalant, but the statement can barely be heard – the dark red carpet drains away the power behind it. Or maybe it’s the wood paneling that makes up the walls – wood so dark it seems to glisten with condensation. There is no obvious light.

 

“Fuck it.” Moving forward Tony knows better than to turn around – but when has that ever stopped him? Looking back he sees the body in its metallic coffin of gold and red and shiny chrome. He looks old – hair frosted with ice, face slack and wrinkled, the arc split in half from the blow Rogers dealt him. “I’m not dead.” Not yet – and so Tony Stark turns around and keeps walking away from his own corpse. There has to be a way out of here – there has to be a way back to reality.

 

Eventually he stops and then turns around. There is nothing there but endless doors retreating into the distance. He stares at what might be a distant flicker of light off of metal. And then he sits down and studies the carpet beneath him. He remembers sitting down with his arm in a sling and a cobbled together reactor in his chest.

 

He remembers speaking of accountability as he promised to shut down Stark Industries weapons manufacturing. He remembers Rhodes all but spitting in his face. He remembers Christine shoving proof of Stane’s bullshit in his face. Remembers the lack of faith in him – remembers his only support being Jarvis.

 

Nothing makes a sound – no settling structures, no ticking clocks, not even the soft sound of a living, breathing body. So the click of an opening door might as well be thunder. Standing with a rather amazing lack of effort Tony turns to see what’s changed. And standing wide open is one of the doors. A cold breeze comes through along with the smell of grease and oil and a distinct lack of airing out. It shouldn’t seem familiar, but it is… Why?

 

“Well, my mom already left for the diner, and dad went to 7-Eleven to get scratchers... I guess he won, 'cause that was six years ago.” That’s Harley. Fuck. That’s Harley! Tony’s feet are moving before he’s even given a thought to it. He almost skids through the door. Blinking past the sudden change in light quality he hears himself say, Hmm... which happens, dads leave, no need to be a pussy about it, here's what I need...”

 

As his vision wavers into focus Tony watches Harley’s face distort with rage – but that never happened. Harley never took a step back with fists clenched so tight they might draw blood. He certainly never snarled, “That’s it I’m calling the cops!” “What?” Not the best saving line, but Harley going from 0 to 5000 in under 60 seconds is kind of a lot to take. Some of the kid’s best qualities were how fucking levelheaded and easy-going he was. Also awesome with the snowball skills.

 

But not Harley is stomping away, so Tony reaches out and then draws back. This isn’t real. It’s fake like that vision he had before Ultron got made. It’s PTSD on top of a concussion and probably blood loss. So fuck it – “Alright, but you should probably make that call somewhere that isn’t this house. I’ve got several lunatics with fire-breathing abilities trying to kill me right now… Also they apparently have access to a shit ton of missiles.”

 

Whatever not!Harley was expecting it wasn’t that. The creepy little dopplerganger turns toward him and frowns hard enough to cast his eyes into shadows. Anger glitters and sparks from them like a live wire – it’s discourting, not least because Harley should already be tossing questions at him. He has a little sister he would never put into harm’s way. “My dad left me when I was practically a baby. Your dad never actually left –“

 

What the fuck? Harley hates his dad for abandoning his mom with all the damn responsibilities. What the fuck is this? Besides, “ My dad was never actually home – I mean, between running errands for SHEILD while they looked down on him as an easy source of cash and searching the Artic anywhere from 3-6 months out of the year, it’s not like I saw him very much.” The thing wearing Harley’s face literally glitches. Which is totally normal and not a problem at all.

 

“I read -” But Tony has had enough of this and continues on, “And that’s before we get into me getting shipped off to boarding school at like seven and then college at like twelve. And then, of course, because he couldn’t leave the super serum formula alone he and my mother were brutally murdered by Captain America’s brainwashed bestie when I was seventeen.” He almost wants to tell the little monster in front of him about the video, but damn if whatever it is deserves that.

 

The doppelgänger gives another full-bodied twitch and then unleashes a squeal that could put a tea kettle to shame before literally melting along with the room. Or not… Looking around Tony finds himself standing before a single golden string that vibrates gently. It’s the only thing he can focus on besides himself as the rest of wherever he is stretches out into a featureless, colorless, plain that quite frankly gives him the heebie-jeebies.

 

It might be a year and a day before he touches it and then –

 

 

  
It s **n** _ **aps**_.

 

And the floor drops out from under him.

…TBC…


	2. If someone thinks they have the upper hand, break it.

The one good thing about being alone is that no one will ever know he squealed like a girl when he woke up to the faceless thing. It has been like oil and obsidian and a starless sky in human form. Which really brought it in contrast to the formless mass of fog Tony found himself in. The ground is like glass, but it has the cold and rough texture of concrete. The faceless thing tilts it’s head as it watches him get up and then it turns around and walks away. The sensible thing to do would be to let it go, but the smart thing to do would be to keep it insight – so Tony takes off after it.

 

The fog is like a living thing and a part of Tony wonders if it’s tied into the Faceless Wonder. The other part is quietly freaking out over the lack of audible feedback from his pursuit. He can’t hear the pound of his feet against the ground. He can’t hear the whistle of air pass his ears or himself panting as he reaches his limit. He can’t even hear the thudding of his heart in his chest. Everything is silent and then – there is light and his hands just barely catch him as he nearly runs into a familiar wall. New York blares through the window and Peter… Peter is saying something.

 

  
Suddenly Tony sits next to Peter and places his hand on the boy’s shoulder, “You got a passport?” Except that’s not right… or at least there was more there wasn’t there? And the scene freezes as the light dims. “What the fuck is going on?” “Hell if I know.” Whipping around so fast he looses his balance Tony can only gape at his double who studies him with a cool detachment. “That said, we need to find out. Something is going on – and it’s not in your… our best interests.

 

  
The room glitches and then Tony is watching himself putting away his phone, “So … You’re the spider-ling. Crime fighting spider. You’re spider-boy?” Spider-toddler blushes before sulkily stuttering, “Spider-man”. The folded arms are what really sells.

 

“Not in that onesie, you’re not.” Looking to the side with a shrug of his shoulders, and Tony can feel the echo of his injuries. The Iron Man armor goes a long way in protecting him, but physics are physics and catching a bullet at close-range hurts. Also damn at that busted eye – it’s a wonder Aunt Hottie let him in the damn house.

 

“It’s not a onesie.” Tony just grins as he gathers up the abandoned suit. Peter continues to talk as he studies his desk, “I don’t believe this. I was actually having a really good day today, Mr. Stark. Didn’t miss my train, this perfectly good DVD player was sitting there …” Peter turns around to watch him fondle the suit as he picks up a pair of scissors at random. And that sounds wrong. “And Algebra test? Nailed it.” He smacks down the scissors to punctuate his statement.

 

Tony looks up. “Who else knows? Anybody?” Peter shakes his head no. “Nobody.” Tony looks down and frowns as he studies the suit. “Not even your unusually attractive aunt?” Taking a seat he studies Peter whose backlit by the window. “No. No.” Peter reaches out, “No! If she knew, she would freak out. And when she freaks out, I freak out.” Tony looks up as he plays with a webbing capsule. “You know what I think is really cool? This webbing.” Tony throws it at Peter who catches it easily.

 

Peter sighs as he examines it. Tony examines him before saying, “That tensile strength is off the charts. Who manufactured it?” Peter looks over, winds up his arm and tosses the capsule. “I did.” Tony looks impressed before examining the suit. “Climbing walls, how are you doing that?” Peter looks down. “Adhesive gloves?” Peter gets an uncomfortable look that, one that Tony makes a vow to investigate very soon.

 

“It’s a long story. I was …” Tony sees the mask and proceeds to act an ass. “Lordy! Can you even see in these?” Placing the cup-like parts over his eyes he proceeds to cry “I’m blind!” in an incredibly childish voice. Rushing over to snatch the suit Peter angrily stutters that yes, yes he can see.

 

Shoving the suit back out of the way Peter turns with a conflicted face, “Look. I can’t – I can, I can see in those. Okay?” Watching himself raise an eyebrow Tony can only wince at the bruise he’s sporting. “Damn that thing’s distracting.” Peter shrugs before crossing his arms. “It’s just that when whatever happened, happened … It’s like my sense have been dialed to 11. There’s way too much input, so th-they just kinda help me focus.”

 

Tony makes a face that – actually what the hell kind of face is that? Honestly, the whole thing is just a blur in a lot of ways. Better not let Friday know since she’ll persist in referring to it as a concussion-related amnesia. Stupid fucking WebMD. Woolgathering it takes a minute for Tony to tune back in. “- dire need of an upgrade. Systemic, top to bottom, hundred-point restoration.” Peter walks pass and sits down. Tony turns to look at him, “That’s why I’m here.”

 

Peter doesn’t look like he believes him. And it probably doesn’t help when Tony launches into a tangent, “Why are you doing this? I gotta know, what’s your MO? What gets you outta that twin bed in the morning?” Peter nervously fidgets, “Because …” His voice gives several false starts, before trailing off into stammering. And then he takes a deep breath and looks the older man in the eyes. “Because I’ve been me my whole life, and I’ve had these powers for six months.”

 

  
At Tony’s affirmative sounds Peter waves his hand at the desk. “I read books, I build computers. Yeah, I would love to play football, but I couldn’t then, so I shouldn’t now.” “Sure, because you’re different.” Peter looks down. “Exactly, but I can’t tell anybody that, so I’m not.” His eyes turn to the right. “When you can do the things that I can, but you don’t …” Tony leans forward. “And then the bad things happen … They happen because of you.” Tony looks away.

 

“So you wanna look out for the little guy, you wanna do your part? Make the world, a better place, all that, right?” “Yeah, just looking out for the little guy.” “That’s what it is.” Tony stands up and walks over. “I’m gonna sit here, so you move the leg.” Sitting down he turns to face Peter as Peter skoots over. There’s a moment of hesitation from Tony and then he brings down his hand on the kid’s shoulder. “You got a passport?” “No, I don’t even have a driver’s license.”

 

“You ever been to Germany?” “No.” “Oh, you’ll love it.” “I can’t go to Germany.” “Why?” “I got homework.” “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that.” “No, I’m being serious. I can’t just drop out of school.” “Might be a little dangerous. Better tell aunt hottie I’m taking you on a field trip.” This is the moment that other Tony should be getting webbed to the door by a desperate Spider-lad. Instead the kid yells, “You want me to WHAT?”

 

And that’s when Tony finds himself back in the scene as “AILF” May rattles the door and asks why it’s locked. “Peter are you okay? Mr, Stark open this door!” But that’s not important, what is important is the ugly expression spreading across Peter’s face. A look of perfectly malicious joy as the boy steps closer, “Just a minute Aunt May.” Tony can feel his stomach flipping over as the urge to vomit rises.

 

“This doesn’t look good for you Mr. Stark. If anything gets out about me to anyone. Well… I’ll just have to let everyone know you tried to take a fourteen year old boy out of the country on a secret trip to Germany.” And suddenly the only urge Tony has is to laugh. “ Really, kid? Do you not know who the fuck I am?” And the thing wearing Peter’s face honest to god growls. “Friday play the last five minutes.”

 

Not!Peter frowns as he listens before going to open his mouth, “Friday replay the last ten minutes. And then save a copy of this entire conversation. In the event any malicious rumors of inappropriate behavior come to light please forward copies to every major news network in America as well as the BBC, Al-Jazeera, Euronews, RT and CGTN.” The fake can barely keep a parody of Peter’s visage on its face, “No one will believe it! Everyone knows what kind of monster you are!”

 

Before he can answer Tony’s world is shattered by a sound that in other circumstances might be considered a beep or boop. Either way he finds himself starting at what looks like a room composed of lines of code. Parts of it look like Jarvis, parts look like Ultron, parts look like Friday and Dum-E and Butterfingers and U. But he can’t focus on that because in front of him is another golden string that shivers with a repressed violence. 

 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Looking back Tony sees the verison of him from Peter’s room. Turning back to the string he shrugs and then touches it.

 

 

 

“How many of us are there?”

...TBC…

**Author's Note:**

> Another story? Oh, dear. Someone take the keyboard before I start another wip!


End file.
